Wanting and Wasting

I've found all I've worked for, all I've worked to over come has become an incredible waste of time. Despite working harding, willing to do more, I am left standing exactly where I started.
Such an inbalance, gross impartialities have left me frustated, angry to the point where I have become shackled, imprision by circumstance. Like a rat in a maze, always looking and hoping for a way through. Trapped among walls too high to see above. I find myself more lost and detached from what lies around me. Franticly running among a labyrinth of lies, my body is collapsing. Seeing all that was once real to me, merely becoming wasted.

THE SEEDS OF UNCERTAINTY

The seeds which we are bloom into soft, beautiful, fragant flower thriving as we open up to the world around us. Reaching towards the sun, we bask in it's glow. Yet in the shadows find ourselves searching for the strength that was there the day before. Our roots are weakening as we even as we cling more despartly to the ground. Hanging low, bowed toward the ground petal by petal we wilt away and disappear. Somewhere, somehow we learn to accept all of life is entrophy. All the security of life lies within the fate of our uncertain death.

How then can I feel secure with life, when the only thing that is certain is an uncertain death??

*Photo by LithiumFiles Copyright 2006

A Disconsolate Mind

I've been walking on a plain of glass shards. I've become jaded, inadvasive, and numb to what lies beneath my foot steps. Yet I can still feel a pain that does not quite have a name. A feeling so fleeting and phantom I am unamble to grasp it. A pain that stings not through out the body but with in it's very core. A presence, to that hollowness aching from within. A soul that has no presence and is torn between two polarities of intensity and detachment.

I've come to find a place within that has no meaning. A rising disturbance. With the remerants of whats left inside of me, I know with a deafening certainty, I no longer belong.

venting

I have not blog anything in a while because a lot of my writing has been more free style I guess and I'm pretty certain no one is reading this. (But if you are, please comment. Don't be mean though. Honest but not mean)

I been sick lately. No one seems to know why. I can't stand who I am and who I've become. I struggle so hard to appear normal but there's just so much will power alone can do.
I had some blood work done a while back showing my hormonal levels to pretty out of wack making me in a pre-menpausal state. I can never have children. I really never wanted any, I'm too unstable and there's hardly enough to cover my own living expenses. But deep down, I feel remorse. Like I killed all my babies because in a way I did this to myself.

I'm not exaggerating when I say I think about my sister every day. Some days more than others. Now particularly a lot, last year this time she was dying. I don't care what anybody says about her 'choosing' to die instead of getting well. I think its a bunch of crap. She to me, was just so far down that it was easier to dig herself deeper than to find a way out. She did not choose to be depressed or bi-polar. She did have some choice in her alcoholism. However, I believe it was her depression that lead her down that painful path. What a lot of people don't know is that she did go to her meetings and annoyingly enough could quote every AA statement in history. She did keep a journal, she did pray, she did all the things the say would lead her down the path to recovery. What they failed to address is that there how powerful and debilitating her depression was.

It's funny how life just goes on after you die. After the funeral, it's almost like a sign pops up, business as usual. Makes me realize how insignifigant life really is, if your not someone extrodinar. Makes me think how I am no one special. It's all just an illusion.

Collasping Within

I seriously don't want to be like this and understand I'm not doing this I'm purpose. I'm trying! I'm trying to do everything I can so I don't have to feel so utterly depressed all the time. Rob knows but he can't help me so he just tries to pretend I'm not falling apart. He ignores the fact that I can't seem to get up and about. That I haven't left the house the entire day, not even to take out the trash or walk my dogs. It's feels like I'm emotionally paralyzed, having no drive to do even the simplest of tasks. I know this will in time pass, like it usually does but the torment and embarrassment of going through it makes me hate every bit of who I am. I'm terrified when I'm like this, that I'll blow my imaginary cover that everything okay. I have been having problems keeping my feelings under control. Usually I just excuse myself and pop some meds and I'm fine in about 15 minutes. But there are times like a few days ago at work, when I did not even sense the emotion breakdown that was about to occur. I knew I was feeling infuriating anger brewing inside of me but I second guessed it for low-blood sugar and wolfed down some junk food in between customers. But then it was still there, still tauting me. The paranoia collasping around me and the tormenting parental voice that seemed to loom all around me, telling me I'm shit. Reminding me of every bad moment I had experienced and mocking it.

You know how they say only a face a mother could love? Remember that time when you were like seven sitting in the park with your mother. She told you how the seven dollars she spent on your hair cut was a waste because you were nothing but ugly. Remember??

Yeah I remembered. I remember all of it.

I try to stay present and focus. But the voice is over powering me, breaking me. It becomes so loud I forget were I am. I say under me breathe 'Leave Me Alone!" Then the floor feels like it's collapsing and reality starts to be more and more vague. I hear myself speak to it once again. This time louder. My own voice momentarily frightens me and I realize I've got to hide somewhere, now!!

I downed my meds and went over to my manger. I do not know what I must of looked like from the outside but I said to her, 'I need a break, I'm feeling psychotic!' She ask how long, as if I could calculate how long my little psychotic interference would take. I told her 15 minutes. I at least, knew fifteen to twenty minutes would be about the time it would take for the meds to cross the blood brain barrier for some relief to occur. Walking my way to the bathroom, I heard myself again say, 'Stop it'. Immediately humiliated I said aloud, 'Oh shit!'
It was that moment, I became terrified of who I am. I found myself blurring the line between what was real and what resided exclusively in my mind. Even more horrorific than the untouchable grasp of reality, was knowing there was no where I could go to escape this madness. There is no hiding from the demons that exsisted with in. No comfort zone to go to. My world shatters apart, their is no way out when you are collapsing within.

All these pills...

Rob is ignoring me as usual... Maybe a bit more, it's kinda hard to tell. I stopped taking most my meds. I did not do it intentionally. Just started feeling better, doing more things and before I knew it I was forgetting to take my pills more often. Doesn't take long for the therapeutic levels to drop to almost normal to psychotically depressed. And strangely when I get this way it doesn't make me want to take care of myself, it just leaves me in a lifeless shell where I no longer care what happens. Where I find myself not looking both ways when I cross the street or just the basic necessities like getting out of bed, eating, or any other type of action that might require me to give a damn about myself.

I remember seeing my mother like this many, many times. I was just a young kid and knew nothing of depression. I did not understand why she didn't want to leave the house or why she wore the same clothes for days on. I used to feel so angry at her, wanting to just kick her, do something, anything! Just to make her want to be herself again, just to see the life back in her eyes. She would sometimes say to me, 'one day I'll run away from here' or 'one day I'll be dead and you will all be sorry.' At the time I could not grasp what she had been feeling. I had no idea how much pain she felt.

Now some fifteen years later, I know all too well that feeling and I ache all too often from that same pain.
I only wish she could have lived long enough too see beyond it. As I have and in time, will be strong enough to one again can revisit.

Forgive me for only understanding, when it was all too late.

Dear Big sister, I wish I could of gave you the will and the strength to want to live. Forgive me, for not knowing how and once again reacting far too late. I never thought you would leave me though. Forgive me for this ignorance.

"Someone save me if you will
And take away all these pills
And please just save me if you can
From my blasphemy in my wasteland

How did I get here
And what went wrong
Couldn't handle forgiveness
Now I'm far beyond gone"

*2005 Shinedown, Save Me

Register Five

I finally woke up today after the alarm went off for 45 minutes. I dreaded the idea of getting ready for work. If I could just hide under the cover for another 10mins maybe it would just all go away. Feeling the sensation of floating as I finally stood up, my vision started to gray out in the perimeter of my view. I grabbed the side of the wall to prevent falling and finally my vision clears and my head no longer feels like pins and needles. I know I'm dehydrated and my electrolytes are grossly skewed but what could I do? I only had a half hour to get ready and out the door. So I grabbed the ultimate caffeine elixir to jump start my body knowing by the time I'm one hour into work my hands will start shaking like some detox junky and my stomach would turn with nausea of a pregnant woman. But I down it anyway knowing it will at least get me out the door.

On my way to work I try to think positively, hoping that today will be a good day. Never know how your going to be feeling makes having plans almost impossible. But I push myself to feel normal and that everything today is going to be great.

I'm finally at my cash register and all I want to do it is go back to bed where the floor doesn't feel like it will collapse under me and my head will stop spinning once it hits the pillow. Instead I smile and cheerfully greet my customers. I've been doing this for so long it become a routine. Constantly faking.

'Hi, How are you doing today?' I'll say with a cherry painted on smile. 'Fine, and you?' 'Oh me, I'm fine. Having some thoughts of suicide this morning but no more than usual. Ya know, the usual contemplating living another day or chasing down a lethal amount of toxins, just like my sister did. Is there anything else I can help you with?' 'Okay, then you have a great day.' Closing with another fake gleaming smile while trying to hold back the nausea rising.

Still holding on, I pop a Klonopin in between customers because I can already see my hands are starting to shake. Hoping the customers would just go away, I greet the next person. They complain the line is too slow and the distance from the line to the register is entirely too long to walk. I try to explain that we are set up like bank tellers to ensure privacy and to keep the line moving so you won't get stuck behind that one person that needs a price check. Of course today, these customers are in no mood for logical thinking. So I listen to them whine and tell them to have a nice day. When all I want to do is scream they could use the damn 10 extra feet of walking. But I smile as always.

The room seems to tilt up from under me and my head once again is starting to spin. I need a bathroom break and a quick snack but there are still customers waiting. I ring up one and then next but finally I give in to my bodies cries and turn off my light with the big glowing number Five on it.

I waited far too long to grab a bite to eat. The waves of weakness being to take over me as my sugar level plummets. I fight back the urge to fall to the ground and tell my co-worker I need a break. She says nothing but I can tell she's pissed. I can feel her eyes on me as I make my way toward the back room. Paranoia set in, as I feel all eyes upon me. Eyes of the customers and eyes of my co-workers all ridiculing me. My feet feel numb as I try to walk faster. High pitch rings fill my ears and I can no longer hear their voices. Yet I can still feel their eyes covering me, laughing at me.

Behind me I lock the stall door, safety at last. I hold onto the cold tiles surrounding me waiting for the wave of nausea to pass, waiting for the floor once again to become still enough to support me. Deep breaths, I take to try and catch myself. My shaking limp hands cover my face in shame. I realize I'm losing the battle with my body and on a very profound level I am not just like everyone else. I am weak, I am defective.

Something besides the ringing penetrates my ears, 'Maretta please, come to the front.' Immediately I look up recognizing the call. How long have I been in here? Five minutes? Ten minutes? Fifteen?? I had no recollection of time, only the moments in between my pounding heart that fleeted as I waited for the floor beneath me to remain still.

I was no where near ready yet. But I had to hurry. I fondled for coins at the bottom of my purse as I stumbled towards the vending machines. All junk, no nourishment which would only make me feel like a walking catatonic later. But it would prevent me from hitting the floor for now. Besides there was always the half of Provigil I could take to prevent the comatose feeling that would later arrive. Cramming the junkfood into my mouth, I swallowed it barely chewed. My legs began cramping like some type of battery acid was poured on them as I forced them to quickly move back to my register. Back where once again where I would cheerfully hop up to turn my big glowing Five on. And with that same painted on smile yell, 'Next customer, Please.'

Already Dead

I feel like I'm shutting down and slowly coming to this dreary halt. I've cut myself off from the world around me. Hiding behind some stone walls I created, brick by brick. I can't even try to explain why I am doing it. It seems to takes an incredible amount of strength to do the simplest of things. I don't know why this is happening to me!! I'm screaming for a way out but know one can hear beyond the cave I left myself to rot in.

I feel horrible because not only am I doing this to myself but I know by shutting people out hurts the ones I love the most. I feel like an infectious disease. So contagious I find myself warding people off. Yet locked inside I find, my ears yearn for another's whisper, my skin cries for a soft touch, and my heart bleeds to feel loved.

My mind is desperately screaming to get out but my body unable to let it. I don't feel like a person anymore and all the life inside me is now gone.
My face expressionless, my feelings impassive. A chill runs though me, as I'm finding myself lost. I don't know how to find my way back. Maybe I'm already dead.

*photo by www.graveaddiction.com
**edited by LithiumFiles

The Raven and the Dove

A disturbance of tranquility
Disarrayed through loss of control
Cries that echo in agony, longing for a lost soul
Twisted in lies, a wasp lingering sting,
a scopinions poision seeps seductively into the naked skin.

A rose colored path twists into a dark alley of death.
Desparte cries sings of sorrow, an unresolved grief.
Forgiveness in time will pave a path,
a new hope for peace.
Still feelings inside, collide of fury and love
Sit side by side, like the raven and a white dove.
*Photo by LithiumFiles Sept 2005

Addict

The Addict's Bug
I been binging on sugary, refined carbs again. I can't stand when I let this happen!! I so badly want to feel in control again. I hate the feeling of being bloated and out of control. It just feels dirty to me. Like I slept around with 19 guys over the weekend or something. Is it weird to feel that way about food?? Binging on food seriously makes me feel ugly, horrible and tainted. I know you must be thinking, 'Why do it???'.

Binging to me sometimes feels like an 'itch' that must be scratch. You relentlessly desire the momentarily relief it will bring. You want so badly to believe that just a quick scratch will make it all better and you won't have to deal with the uncontrolable insane 'itchy feeling' that been mounting every second, of everyday, as long as you can remember.

You become a neurotic junkie fighting with yourself over and over again. Trying , wanting, hell needing to believe that this time will be different. Just one tiny scatch won't cause the infection to spread. Yet everytime it does. And eveytime you wind up the same damn way, with your itch now stinging, throbbing and hurting even more than you ever thought possible.
In the end, you wind up hating yourself with no remorse. Closing my eyes every so tightly trying to escape the throbbing pain that radiates through my head. Wishing somehow, someway you could take it all back, start over, rewind. But you know you no matter how badly you wish, it will never happen. So I lie there in my bed, dried tear marks streaming down my beet red face, making promises for a new day, a new start, a way to somehow undue what is already done. A fast? A senisbile diet? A rigrious exercise program? Something, anything to regain control back. And for a while it may even work.

Until almost inevabitly you start to feel the 'itch' again. Trying desperately to put it out of your head, ignore it, keep busy, reason with yourself. All along knowing somewhere in the back of your head you're so very screwed!!!

The sad thing is I expected my sister to control her drinking. A sever physical addiction that threw her into convulsions when she was dry! And I can't even put down a gram cracker! wtf!??
But in the end, I guess it's all realitive. An itch, is an itch. Whether
bitten by the alcohol bug or food addict/obsessive compulsive bug, it's still gonna be one hell of a bitch to live with.

Dear Sister,
How I long to talk to you! How I long to tell you I know how hard it is!! I never fully got the chance to explain that. But I do understand, I do know your pain too well. I wish with all my being, if just for a mininute come back and talk to me. It hurts so much inside. Too much!! I'm sorry you went through it alone again and again and again. And I'm sorry you paid the ultimate price. I love you. I just want you back so bad!!! I know it's selfish but you are one of the few people who could ever turely understand. As I was one of the few people who could truely see inside of you, beyond your addiction, beyond my addiction, and beyond all the insanity that comes with it. Just two sister bit by one really bad bug.
God I Miss You!

*Photo by ICPMR www.airbovirus.heath.msw.gov

Update

Just wanted to let everyone know I been doing okay. I will be posting a full entry either Tues evening or Wed depending on how things go.
I been taking some time out to just collect my thoughts and let things settle in. It's been such a stressful month for me and now with everything abruptly halted, I'm feel a bit disoreinted.
I'm trying to get my life back on track. Somewhat consumed by an urgency to get things done. Time suddenly seems so short and fleeting.
I always felt there would always be another moment we could put aside somehow. Moments we could use to connect with ourselves and our loved ones. When we wait we forever lose these percious moments. Somehow I want to embrace the time I have, to cherish it and not fear it. And keep it scared, locked away in my heart.

Nite All

Pensive

Some Souls Are Just Not Ment to be Saved...


















*Photo by LithiumFiles 2005

This I Know of You

This I Know of You, My Sister
PART ONE
You were born January 11, 1961.

1962 Your father abandoned you sometime after your first year of life.

You lived with my mother in her parents overly crowded house.

Though you were loved dearly, you heard continual fighting and screaming, you didn't understand.

1963 When you were three, you left that home for a new one. Mother remarried and you were legally adopted by my father.

1968 You found out there was a new baby on the way. On January 5, 1965 you had a baby brother, Billy.
On January 21,1966 You had another baby brother, John.

You all lived as a family on the house at the end of the street and played together in the woods.

Till one day, swinging carefree on your swing set someone told you, you were not part of the family. You were adopted. In your pretty dress with matching hair bows, tears streamed down your rosey cheeks as you demanded from mom in your tiny eight year old voice for the truth. When she spoke, your heart broke for the very first time. You would never feel the same, you felt as the outsider looking in on someone else's happy family. You would always feel different, tainted from the others.

You told some friends at school. You wanted someone to talk to but know one listened. They all teased and laughed at you. You tried to tell but at home you weren't allowed to speak of your father. You felt confused, lost, and more alone than ever.

When you were almost twelve, you heard there would be another baby on the way. On April 4, 1973 you had a little sister Mary.
You played with her, changed her diapers, and showed her new things.

As Mary grew older, you spent less time playing with her and more time caring for her. Mom and dad began fighting more often. So Dad traveled continuously for his job.
You would watch mom cry but didn't know how to make it better. You slowly felt this enormous responsibility sinking down on your shoulders. There would be no time for your tears.

Though grandma spoiled you nice things to make it all better. Somehow, you knew it would not.

Then one day, like a key that fits so perfectly into a lock, you found something that would.

You opened this new door into another world, you suddenly feltl free at last. It felt like safe place, an escape into oblivion where you made all the rules. It was all you ever thought you wanted.

It was sometime around there, you would become lost in a sea of sickness, known as alcoholism.

**Photo by LithiumFiles 2005
*some names where changed

Sorrow

~me and my big sister 1977~

My Older sister, Barbara has lost her battle with life. After three days of binge drinking she went to bed on Sunday night never to woke up. The reality of my loss, has not quite sunk in. I will be leaving on a plane tomorrow morning heading for New Jersey. There we will bury her in a family plot next to my Grandfather,Grandmother, my Mom, my Dad and sister-in-law. There I will face reality that everything I know her to be is now forever lost.

~Sister~
I'm so sorry I did not know you be leaving so soon. I was so happy talking with on the phone just five short days ago. You sounded so well. I believed things were going to turn around for you. I'm sorry I let you down. I'm sorry if you tried to call and I just didn't answer. I'm sorry you have such an acute addiction to alcoholism no doctor or specialist could ever fully understand it. I'm sorry for the times I fought with you when you where well. And I'm sorry I couldn't be more understanding when you were not.

It's not fair you were chosen to live this life. I want you to know I've always admired your charisma, your boldness, your drive, your creative spirit, the way you could always laugh in the bleakest of times. I want you to know you were never just an alcoholic . But someone so special that sometimes it hurt too much. I've never stopped believing in you even through times of angry, outrage, and isolation. I always believed this was not your fault and you would come through this. You always had an amazing ability to pick yourself up after you been knocked so far down. In so many was you seemed invincible. In so many ways you are now invincible like an eternal flame forever illuminated the darkness in my heart.
~Bless you my Big Sister~

Black Hole Eyes

Eyes are the mirrors into the soul...
Though mine beholds only darkness
A reflection of mere existence
Two celestial black holes
Falling deep into empty aybss
A soul forever lost

No Way Out

My depression has not gotten any better. I rarely leave the house. I don't want to bother doing anything I once enjoyed. Taking my dogs for a walk outside has become a termendous effort. I don't want people to see me. I am ashamed of how I look, how I detoriated, what I've ultimately become. Barely, a mere existence of what I was. I hate myself for being like this. I wish with everything left inside of me I could force myself out of this. Every night I tell myself tomorrow will be better, it has to be!! I think somehow tomorrow I will have the strength to push myself into some kind of... life. But everyday is the same and I dug myself deep into a hole where I can see no way out.
(*photo-www.shutterstock.com/images)

Meds

Back-talk to Prozac and a few other psycho-pharmacutical drugs. Lexapro is the latest one replacing my seven year intoxication with 60mgs of Fluoxine aka, Prozac. It's been approximately one week, 10mg of my latest addition. I'm hoping it will hold new promise to my imprisoment with utter despair and relentless gloom.
(photo by www.createonline.com)

Losing Myself

I have so many thoughts, images, emotions spinning through my mind that I feel unable to grasp a meaningful sentence worth typing.
I am lost inside the eye of a violent tortanic wind with everything floating by but yet nothing to grasp on to.
Devastating dualities emerging of depression and anxiety.
Haunted by fear yet compelled by compulsion.
Caged on the inside to the point of numbness.
Yet pained by a tender touch.

I have lost myself, I have lost my soul.
Nothing with substance left to mold from.
No glue strong enough to adhese these pieces together.
No clutch to help carry myself.
No life left to preserve.
(*photo by LithiumFiles 2005)

Sister Update

I found out earlier yesterday, she was not released by the hospital but signed out AMA. I guess it was only a matter of time. Since she signed out AMA she looses help from her social worker and possibility of a nurse. Her social worker said, she explained this to her before she signed out.

I called her at home around noon and there was no answer. I figured she may be sleeping or whatever. So I called again around 5pm still nothing. So I left a message for her boyfriend to call me when he got home at 8pm. I called there around 8:30pm they were fighting. Apparently she spent the day out with a friend. She swore she had not been drinking but I don't buy it. Her prognosis from here is very bleak. I find myself with out words to explain the entirety of the situation. Feeling numb just waiting for what comes next.
My sister had been on anti-abuse before. As far as I know it did not stop her from drinking, it just made her violently ill. She's pretty much refusing all help now anyway. There is not much I can do, as far as having her committed b/c she fully understands the consequences of her actions and is therefore considered sane.

She had been sober almost a year before my mother died. She drove her back and forth to a lot of her radiation treatments. Her and I cared and stayed with my mother in the last few months in the hospital. We tried our best to alternate shifts so someone would always be with her. After my mother passed, my sister returned to drinking. She had almost a year of sobriety in between when she lived in a half-way house. She was kicked out for possession of alcohol, drinking, destruction of property, and assault and battery.

They had taken her back in once but a repeated incident occurred. That was approximately six years ago and she's been drinking pretty much ever since. I am slowly losing all hope for her and along with it feeling a tremendous amount of guilt.

I hope this makes sense. I'm writing very early in the morning. I don't sleep through the night any more at all. I'm up about every 2-3 hours. I'll try to correct the errors later. Just thought I'd bring you up to date.

Update

Hey! Sorry for the late update. My life has been a little crazy and I'm going through ten different emotions every five minutes. My sister is still in the hospital. So far she is stable. Assisted living arrangements have been offered to her to help her regain some strength. Then from there I think the plan is more rehab counseling for her alcoholism. However, I'm not sure if she will go through it all. Especially after she regains her strength. She is already talking about going home. If she does go home, it is very highly likely she will drink again. Her boyfriend works long hours and she lives among neighbors that will buy her alcohol if she asks. (She no loner drives, due to a 15 year license suspension for multiple DUIs.)

I would and wouldn't mind her coming here. Wouldn't mind of course, as a last ditch effort to help her save herself. Would mind because even when not drinking she has a temper, steals, and can be demeaning. Also being here, would present a high probability of her relapsing. And I may be held responsible for what she does during her black-outs.

The last time I was living with her was back in '97. She was still married to her third husband and she was holding down a good job for about the past six months. Things seemed relatively stable. I stayed with her for approximately 6 months. The last two months were kinda bad.

I'll write more in the morning falling asleep right now. Hope there is not too many errors. I just wanted to give a quick update to clear some of the cob webs out of my blog.

Nite All :)

Bad to Worse

My sister, Barbara is in the hospital again. She was originally admitted for her liver problems. They were hoping to due the surgery to drain the imbalances which would ultimately save her life. At first she refused the surgery and all medical intervention. However upon arrival at the ER she seemed more optimistic about the possibility of having the procedure.

Later she was moved in a room to stabilize and monitor her before anything else could be done. Due to unknown complication she began having chest pains. She was immediately transferred to the cardiac unit for critical care.

She will remain there until further notice. Unfortunately no other information is being released as of now.
(*photo www.omniphoto stock images)

So Much For Yesterday

Yesterday I spoke very briefly to my sister. She is home from the hospital. Again she signed out AMA, well actually disconnected her IVs and called a cab. I tried to plea with her that she needs this operation, at the very least to reduce pain.
She has at this point opted NOT to have any surgery or medical intervention b/c she no longer wants to prolong her life. She feels she has nothing to live for. I tried to convince her, just please go IP, so they can monitor her. But she very bluntly said, "For what?" I did not know what to say for a moment. She then says, "Is this what it take for you to call me??" I tried to tell her I don't really talk to anyone, anymore and it has nothing to do with her.

The fact is I do isolate but in truth I don't like to talk to her when she drinking. Which as of right now has been continuously. She is constantly rehashing my mother and father's death as if was yesterday. It has been over ten years now and I just can't deal with the mistakes and loss of past every time I call her. I don't believe she has any idea what she's like when she is drinking. She also suffers complete blackouts which does not help the matter any.

I'm going to try to call her again today. I'm hoping she will be in better spirits. However, in the pit of my stomach I can already feel, its not likely.

The Call

I'm feeling kinda numb after the phone call. Don't know what to do, don't honestly think there's anything I can do. My older sister, Barbara has advanced cirrhosis of the liver, osteoporosis, and jaundice. She is in a lot of pain. Her liver is enlarged and she needs surgery immediately to have it drained. She is undecided on whether to have the surgery due to complications and most of all fear. She was scheduled to have the surgery a few weeks back. She decided to leave the hospital AMA (against medical advice). Her body is severely withered to the point she can not walk. She spent the morning vomiting blood so she was rushed once again to the ER early today. Not much else is being said. It was mentioned she may have less than a year to live depending on her course of action. At this point I believe she is dying. I desperately want to go to Florida to see her but I have nothing to buy a ticket with. Right now I am stuck and trying not to feel much of anything. Knowing somewhere inside if I stop to think, it will hurt too much.

Symphonies of Sadness

Feeling jaded, run over, inside raw running on empty
Treading through the thick layers of despondency and despair.
Weeping symphonies of sadness echoing through the still night
Latching on to every last thread of hope,
unraveling like a sweater, I feel myself become undone.

A mere shadow of existence.
Inside a forgotten world of a lost youth.

With each step I am possessed in a trance.
My eyes see though they can not behold.
My ear hear though I am deaf to any rhythm or tone.
I try to move though the shackles of sorrows bind me.
I try to scream though my voice holds no sound.
I try to breathe but loneliness suffocates
All sensations lost,
Left with only anguish and taunted with regret.

I pray for a way out.
Hoping their is something more to me.

Yet when I close my eyes all there is black.
Entrapped in a grave hole of shadows.

I feel myself letting go, as I fall deeper inside.
Greeting the lingering sensation of death.

*photo edited by LithiumFiles

Side Effects

www.benzo.orguk/toons.htm
Side effects?

Little Green Pills

Ahhhh!!! Think I might of ran out of Klonopin (Clonazepam)!!!!!!!! For those who do not know, its a traquilizer-type drug, benzodiazepines to be exact. Primarily used to control seizures, panic attacks, anxiety.. all that fun stuff.

The little green pills helps curb my OCD behaviors when I find myself enticed by their becking presence. It all starts not as concrete thoughts but merely as soft whispers. Phantom of thoughts that pass through my mind. That is until a obscure feeling scratches its way into consciousness. Compelling me with thoughts, ideas, fears and must do's. You just have no idea how catastrophically tweezing an eyebrow or deciding the correct angle of an item can be!!

Once the seduction has set in I become its slave. And all rational slips off and takes a back seat. It is of utmost importance at this stage that that the little green pill find its way into my blood stream. Before the racing thoughts collide with the menacing obbessive intruder creating a more powerful hypomanic, full blown delusional thinking. When it seeps its way into that last stage. The world of structure and rational wraps and blurs into a chaotic fourth-dimensional insanity.

Ahh... Sigh of relief. Found one, just in time!

Note to self: Pick-up Damn Refills!!

Still here, Still Alive

I had started writing a full post but got too distracted (that happens quite easily) to finish up. It's around 12:30 am EST heading off for some rest. I will probably be roaming around the apartment around 3:30-4:00 am. Don't really remember the last time I slept through one full night.
Got a lot on my mind and feeling pretty exhausted. Hopefully will be able to finish up my thoughts tomorrow. That is if I don't delete them. Often I look at my writing the next day and am like, "wtf?!" Something or other winds up sounding incredible stupid. I'm trying to free myself from that type emotional suffocation. Not an easy task for me. But I want this blog to be all of me, including the parts that suck, that are boring or bias, and don't make much sense. And of course all the good stuff in between.

Nite All

Sweet Dreams

Dealer Takes All

Should I surrender and just let insanity take its course.
It was after all the hand I was dealt.
A continues mind game of fifty-two pick-up.

Nothing makes sense, memories flashing on the screen of my mind.
Cards of the past shuffle with cards of the present.
Till the entire deck becomes one in the same.

Can't slow down, images flicker like the wings of a hummingbird.
Before I have the chance to catch my breath.
Dealer takes all and I have nothing left.

Panic Attacks

The feeling had come back, like a predator patiently awaits its pray. Its mouth salivating eagerly watching ready to strike. Its eyes upon me with every breath, there was dark cunning force with in me. It devoured my energy leaving me a weakened sloth. Gasping for air, feeling only shallowness fill my lungs. I was becoming out of control and trembled with fear. I listened for familiar on going sounds of the afternoon to somehow draw me back to reality. But there was only dead silence around me. And the raging sounds of an emanate force growing with in me. Filled with it wrath, it began to tear me down.

"You're nothing!" it seemed to laugh echoing inside my head.

I was alone, completely alone. My soul was being torn out, leaving me stranded in some desolate dark abyss. The feelings I always knew where there, creeping around in the shadows of my mind but I was always able to keep it under tight wraps. Being left exposed to my true feelings, I am I found the true demon with in me it was emptiness and utter loneliness.

(*photo by LithiumFiles)

Loss of Self

This is a entry from a 2003 journal. Its words almost holding a deja vou, presence to them. I often feels like I had died some ten years ago and life now is just a synchronous recreation of the past and present.

January 17, 2003


My body unveils words that I can not speak.
My chosen vessel of effusive expression.
Every cut I made is an emotion that ripped and torn its way out
Every scar tells of relentless saga of sorrows.
It is only through starvation I am granted an oblivion
I become too weak to care, to get anger, to feel.
The gaunt expression on my face holds no fear.
I feel in control now that you can not hurt me
You can not break me, If I feel nothing...

Yet the built up of grief devours me alive
The obession takes over me
The compelling voices inside my mind resides, a negativity that haunts me.
It breaks me down slowly and seductively enervating my soul.
Each day, it destroys me a little more.
Each day I die a little faster.
Time begins to lapse in upon itself.
I'm breathing, I'm moving, but my essence gone.
I'm just a mere shadow lurking in lost spaces.
Loss of time, loss of reality, and loss of self.

Update

Yesterday's job didn't go over as planned. My taxi was supposed to come at 3:30. When it got to be 3:45 and I panicked and called the cab company. Their response, 'We are trying to find someone for your area, blah blah..." So I called the job and explained and asked if it was okay if I ran 10 mins late. Answer- No. CRAP!!
So back on the job hunt tomorrow, again.

Today, what a disaster!! Went to the Doctors, you know how much fun that is. He was a kind physician so no I did not leave him with a nice purple imprint of my heel in his forehead, at least not yet. But he mentions me seeing some specialist about checking for the BRAC gene since I am more than double at risk for cancer. Then he say "Insurance probably won't cover it but you should really get analysized to avoid future complications." I'm thinking "future complications" isn't my life just fucked up enough already! What next, will I soon find myself eating paint chips and licking the wallpaper?

Ah! Life is really not that bad. I'm just a magnet for drama. And wouldn't have it any other way. Playing amongs all the prismatic color of the rainbow, the illuminating, the neutral, the dark and daughting, is better than being stuck with one shade all your life.

Dead End

That devlish smirk crept upon my face, in that moment I knew I was unstoppable if not invincible. Oh, I was not just going have my cake but devour it up, calorie free. Shamelessly laughing at myself like some stoned hyena, my head was swam with euphoric thoughts, dreams, and ideas. I was on top of the world and had the power to achieve anything I willed. Racing aimless down the streets of my desires.
Had I know the road would come to such a sudden dead end I would of have taken the detour.

Gazing impassively upon my reflection, I wondered who will I be today. Will today be another fraught voyage of entertaining idosyncratic highs and desolate lows? Trying reluctantly to find some common ground, desperately needing to fit. Reaching for any way possible just to appear normal! Would this yet another day scheduling my life around unpredictable moods and madness.

I had wrote a lot more to this piece but thanks to 'Blog Space' it is forever lost!! Note to self and other bloggers- save your own work somewhere else beforehand. x_x

Update

Regretfully I have not been able to write lately. It's not that I've been too busy but rather my minds been like scrambled eggs. That's the trouble with being bipolar, you get creative, have so much to say, some many thoughts competing for attention.
Eventually all ideas fly around my head like some psychotic race car driver. Exhilarated by being ahead of the pack but not realizing I've been driving in circles. Reality does have a way of smacking you in the face like driving head-on into a brick wall. And when the rides over I am exhausted, disoriented, and jaded.
I have done some sketchy writings I intend to make something of soon. But for now I just been cruising around, with my seat belt tightly fastened!

The Open Door

I opened a door and found myself petrified to take the next step. In Riveting Memoriors, one of my past entries, was about an experience I had some ten years back. I had planned on revising an old version I had written on it a few years back. To my dismay, the older version would not open up on Windows 6.0 version.

I did however, manage to find a rough draft, a few pages long. As I began to read it, it took me right back. By the third page of it, I stopped reading and put it aside. For some reason the words jumped out at me and left me too numb to continue. Maybe I thought, it one of my ingenious ways to procastinate yet another project I am working on. Typing from the draft all over again would be a major drag. But then there was something else.

Something that gripped me, disillusioned me, and made me turn away. I never had this happen before. I've been in therapy and have talked about my experiences many times. I'm not sure if this is some kind of writer's block, laziness, or just plain fear. It bothers me deeply. I have always wanted to write about my last ten year roller coaster ride. But here I am, at the very top and unable to move. I just don't get it.

New Dawn

*photo by LithiumFiles
New Dawn

Riveting Memoirs

There was a rapping noise at my door, a tall shadow cast upon my ceramic floor as my door creaked open. The bright light from the hall glared into my sleepy eyes. "What?!" I responded irritated as my mother's figure stood beside my bed. "I'm going to the hospital. You need to spend the night at your sister's house", she announce in a detached solemn voice. " What?!. Why?! Okay fine forget it!", I replied as I slinked my way out my bed. "God it's cold in here" hugging my arms as I moved slowly gathering together some clothing. "I need to leave now", she whispered, barely audible. "Fine, okay", was the only answer I mumbled under my breathe. Had I took the time to look at her, I would of saw the pallid look on her face, the darkness that had settled beneath her eyes that cried out from night after night of sheer exhaustion, and the devastate fearfulness that had draped over her like a light sheet drawn over a recent passing soul.

Barbara was restlessly pacing about as she chain smoked, muttering away something about 'the plans'. Through the haze of smoke we briefly locked eyes. Her eyes danced in idiosyncratic ways, which I could not tell had been induced by booze, panic, or something else... Something I could not quite put my finger on. 'You can stay in the empty room', she spattered in between puffs. Not wanting to question, the unusual events, I found myself plopped on the hard twin mattress. Easily sinking back into sleep. Dreaming far away from here or anywhere I had been to. Driving up this long, winding road, I sat in the back gazing out the window with a certain feeling of elegiac familiarity. There was dead silence among the passengers in the long black automobile. I could only see black holes for faces yet I knew exactly who they where. The car edged up onto the last bit of asphalt road onto gravel and dirt that crackled and spit out pebbles from its tires. Around me was a large old cemetery. Then I suddenly was alone in this vast burial ground.

**This a draft to a story, a true story, I intend to write and keep you updated with. I am posting these drafts in bits and pieces. Although the content is scattered and rough, I hope to provide some insight my overall experiences. As always, your comment are welcomed and much appreciated!!**

Visual Feelings

It's Okay... It's No Big Loss...

She dreams

Filled with emotion, she tried so hard not to care.
Her eyes once animated with radiance, have become darkened with despair.
She weeps alone at night, no longer can she take the pain.
Hoping sleep will come soon and whisk her away.

She dreams of being held and caressed by a tender touch.
Of butterfly kisses and compassionate lust.
Lost in a world where the soul is free and surrounded by love.
Her naked skin shimmers in the moon light as she dances with the fairies and plays in the pixie dust.

As dawn breaks the realm of peacefulness.
Awakened once again she returns to a world of lies and bitterness.
She holds the dream she so desperately seeks.
Tears flooded her eyes, knowing she has returned the world filled with corruption and deceit.

Her innocence lost, her joy taken away, she leaps towards the sky,
Never again to fear another day.
For a moment the silence is still, though the wind whispers her name, she plummets below leaving all of pain.

Terminal Ward

I fell through a hole in time and there I was February 95

Reaching out I placed my trembling finger tips on top of her arm that was laced with the wiring of the IV that projected from her hand. Closing my eyes I concentrated deeply trying to pull the pain with in her body through to my own. My body was stronger and could handle it. My body had not been ravaged by the storm troopers of kemo therapy or had been through the nuclear war of radiation. But no matter how strong my body was it still could not pull an ounce of relief off hers. Tears welled up in my eyes as I whispered, "I'm sorry Mother somehow, I have failed you". There where no other sounds in the room except the constant tickering of machines that had been tapped into her body. Everything was still and cold around me. I lined up three wooden chairs parallel to her bed so I could spend the night besides her. For now this was all I could do.

In the morning there would be teams of nurses flooding the halls. I became accustomed to them making their rounds and they had become accustomed to seeing me half asleep beside my mothers bed. My body was stiff from spending the night pinned to the line of chairs I set up. I got up and walked down the long corridors of the hospital wing, second floor west wing, aka terminal ward.

Brief Update

Still alive and kicking.
Right now, just trying to pick up the pieces of the mess I've got myself in. I will be able to post more later on tonight or tomorrow. But for now go sign my guest book damn it! lol!
Love you guys!

PS- Thanks you to my wonderful friends that are supportive and care for me. Don't know what I'd do with out you!!!
Many thanks to Mason, Lisa, Sally, and everyone else who has been there for me. Your friendships are a blessing to me.

Medical Cocktails

Been out there way too long. Here by myself way too long. Alone in my head with its unstopable chatter. Trapped in the dark side of my mind that only sees hate. Hates everything I am about and everything I every done. I loaths its emptiness inside of me. It drains me. it burns me, it has kicked the living out of me. Petty me. I mean seriously, who gives a damn. I've been in pain way too long not to know the answer.

Maybe it's just the pills I need, analgesics, barbituates, narcotics, HRTs, anti-histimines, anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, and on and on. Look at all their different shapes and sizes. The white and greens, the light greens with the 'K' in the middle, ohh look purple ones and pink ones too (not really sure what there for lol) and the boring oblong white ones I get to smash in halves or quarters (PRN "perscribed as needed" now there's a joke) and let not leave out ones in 28 day pink packets, comes in four shades: white, light blue, a darker blue, and a horrid green. All so I don't have to be who I really am. All so I can conform to this unreachable status everyone wants me to fit. Don't mind my liver rotting away. Side effects are no problem! Here have another pill to take it away. The more pills you take, the more pills you take. yay!

Only problem here is, I'm out! No more pretty pills to quiet the inner demons. Funny it seems all those medical cocktails didn't take any of my pain away either. It is still here right here right where I left it! Too numb to cry, too weak to scream, so now what? Well I guess thats when you realized your just plain fucked, shit out of luck, and no body has the answers they once promised cause hey thats life.

Or is it? Is this how I'm supposed to feel?? I'm loosing my grip and fast. My distrubed mind will soon become my hide out from this haunting reality. Is thats the way things where ment to be?? Just numb, just cold, just staring into nothing?? The agonizing part is I'm still sane enough to know I haven't lost it. I know there's life out there but I can not grasp it. There nothing anyone can do to help me. I'm too afraid of their touch. I fear their kinds words to me, may taint their lives. So here I hide, sinking deeper, and deeper into my own self loathing. Hoping sleep will come fast and soon I will no longer care.

Muted Screams

My life is like dried up leaves scattering amongst the wind. I yearn to live it, yet it still passes by. I'm trapped in a place of purgatory where my soul aimlessly exists. No real purpose here. No real reason to wake up.

The walls draw in closer until I am in this compressed glass box unable to move. I yell for help but my voice is silent. My screams sufficating by all the feelings swelling up within me. Inside I'm dying to feel alive, but it's this same feeling that petrefies me. Dizziness clouds my mind as thoughts uncontrollably my thoughts spin. Exhaustion sets, I crumble to the ground. One weak disgraceful mess. I try to focus but too many thoughts battling for attention. My hands tremor and my body is frigid to the world around.Don't touch me! I may fall into a thousand pieces.

My Inner Darkness

It crept its way in slowly, tip toeing behind my back. Even as the shadows around me grew darker, I never really noticed it was coming. It's eerie emptiness hovering around me, coming closer and closer with my every breath. Tickling my neck as the fine hair stood up from sensing its cold void coming closer.

'Don't breath', I though,' don't move, don't even blink!!!' The unfathomable gloom could not harm me if I remained strong. Gasping, I cave into my body's needs as I could no longer hold my breath. My body visibly trembled with fear and my eyes strain to regain focus. Finding myself swallowed within this darkness. Desperately grabbing at the air for something to hold on to. A rail that could lead me back into the light, a wall to lean on, something, anything! Its heaviness weakened me, like a drug that fogs through my conscious. I could no longer fight it, its power was crushing me. Crumbling down to the floor, I hug my knees in closely. My face burrowing upon them. The warmth of my tears cascade down the coners of my eyes. Why was this happening again?! I knew the darkness had once again possessed me. Emotional agony set in, as I cover my face with my trembling hands. Hacking and coughing cries that dispel out of me muffled by my hands. Realizing this grief was not some outside being, it was my own inner darkness. I was its slave.

"Why am I like this?", I demanded answers. But their where none. No way out, this was my mind, my depression, my existence. As sinking feeling settled within me, I slowly felt the familiarity in its being. Now it was just me and my darkness. Alone, with my insidious darkness I began to feel safe. I could hide in its dark shadows. It would numb me from the reality that overwhelmed me, that terrified me. No longer caring what was happening to me. I slowly ease my body down my side and lay there alone, now clinging to its presence.

The Death of a pigeon

It's growing near evening, I can see the long palm trees casting shadows against the dying grass. I stare blankly out my window, it seems death is all around me. The dried up remains of the lawn, the shreds of papers scatter along the sidewalk no longer of importance, and the wilting leaves that cling desperately to their branches. The skeletal remains of a pigeon that died there months ago. Damn grounds people never got around to cleaning up. Day after day they walk by the carcass imaging not to see it, till one day there is just a mere trace of its existence. It amazes me what people are able to tune out, day after day. Though I can't stop looking at it, its wilted bones are a constant remind of how I feel. At one time, it was alive, it was free, and it was beautiful. Now having everything taken away, remaining a mess, its ugliness so poignant that people pretend they don't see it. People tune out my anguish, they pretend they can't see me deterioate as the walk on by. I am that dead pigeon. A mere inconvenience, a disgust, a wasted life.

The Feel of Thin

Feel being the word that needs to be stressed here. When will I actually feel thin? The flesh that covers my body, giving curves my hips, and added softeness to the touch. Providing me with warmth, energy to ensure my life, and the greater possibility of actually living a fullfing life. So why do I cringe upon my own reflection, tormented by feeling of my skin ever so lightly pressing against my clothing, and being repulsed as my fingertips feel for the guantness that has left my checks. The mere distention of my abdomen fills me with feelings of anger and overall disgust.

My reflection is my enemy. It shows me how worthless I am, how ugly and disgraceful I am The more of me that is reflected back the more tormented I become. Bathing and dressing in the dark might help me hide its repulsive contours. Yet it still calls to me to open my eyes and look. Tempting me to see it's perversion, it's loss of control, and its neverending mockering. So I stare at myself, as a bypasser stares at a car reck. Repulsed by what they see but still not able to devaite their eyes from the carnage.